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The Art of Shadow Boxing	By : Tommy-Lane Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 11212 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any charactors from the books and I am not making any money off of this

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Italics = flashback to seventh year
       Chapter 3

                                                                                                                   My Blood Runs Weak

"We can't trust him Harry." Hermione Granger glances at me from over her shoulder, her hands wringing. "Surely you can see that." She hisses and the weasel’s beady little eyes join her quick looks in my direction.

"She's right mate." The red head so very helpfully pipes in and I have to fight back a snort. Twits, their talking as if I'm not standing RIGHT here.

"Well we can't just leave him." That's Potter and my ears pick up. They can't? Who knew, I thought it would be rather easy for them actually to just leave me to die out here. But the mudblood is going off again in that analytical schooling tone that drips with superiority and Potter's arguing back and why is he even bothering?

Oh right, he's the epitome of Gryffindor stupidity...righteousness...I mean Gryffindor righteousness.

"...He's just going to wait for the perfect opportunity to turn you over to his Master!"

I am? Huh, didn't realize that was my plan. Or that I had a Master. Thanks Weasley, good to know. I lean back against the towering tree and fold my arms, biting my tongue against joining in on their little debate. About me. But that's alright I'm good, I don't need to have a say, just go ahead and decide my future for me. It's not like I'm not bloody used to it.

"...I'm going to go talk him." He is? What a novel idea, talking to the person you can't decide about.
Two sets of wild eyes slice into me and maybe it's not such a good idea after all, the weasel will probably just punch me the moment I open my mouth and then his crazy girlfriend can hex me into oblivion.

"You guys wait inside, it'll just be a minute." Oh look Potter does apparently have some sense. Of course the other two don't seem to see that and off they go again. Maybe they want an excuse to attack me, in fact Weasley looks like he might just explode if he doesn't try to land a punch anytime soon.

Did you know that if they go into the tent, mere feet away, that I'm going to kill Saint Potter without a second thought? No? Me either. After that farfetched statement I quickly lose track of the argument and sink further back into the tree, studying my dirty finger nails.
God what I wouldn't give for a bath.

"Fine!" Granger breathes deeply and closes her eyes like she's being so magnanimous letting him walk maybe fifteen steps to chat with me. "We'll be just inside, shout if you need ANYTHING."

It's a good thing she told him that or Potter might have just let me slowly pinch him to death.

I pull myself up to full height as Potter's two little lemmings disappear inside the tiny tent and I fix my eyes on the black haired boy striding towards me.
With a frown. And a glare.

Seriously why the glare? I know we've always hated each other but shouldn't I get a little leeway considering the situation? We're in the middle of...actually I'm not quite sure where...with SNOW falling all around, not to mention the little fact that there's a bloody war waging around us.

Or maybe brewing is a better word. Yes, brewing, there's a war brewing all around us.

"Malfoy." Potter states, stopping before me and....that's it. He doesn't continue. Just Malfoy, like I forgot my own name or something.

So I remind him of his as well. "Potter."

And for the love of god his frown deepens. Is hearing his own unfortunate name that hard on him?

"What were you doing at the river?" He asks, and I think he's trying to look menacing. But he can't exactly pull it off, not with his goofy mop of hair in desperate need of a cut and the way his horrific round glasses keep slipping down his nose like they’re trying to run off. And is he skinnier? I didn't think that was possible...

"Running away." I tell him honestly, because as much fun as it would be to mess with his head a bit I have a feeling that if I want any help from him than honesty is going to be my best choice. I don't much like the way it rolls off my tongue though, there's just something about a perfectly executed bend of the truth that is just so utterly poetic.
The plain truth on the other hand is completely…mundane.

"Running away from what?" He doesn't sound like he believes me.

"I think you mean from whom." I correct him and he rolls his eyes, clearly growing annoyed with me. Well that's fine I'm a tad annoyed myself. Its bloody freezing out here, I haven't eaten in...oh god I can't even remember, and that horrific scene at the Manor the night I fled has permanently seared itself on my brain - making it near impossible to sleep.

"Just answer it prat."

"Who you do think imbecile?" Oops that wasn't supposed to come out like that. Probably shouldn't be pissing him off. He turns to stalk away and I reach out and grab his arm, suddenly very fearful of what might happen if he leaves. "Look I...need your help." Huh that felt weird, Malfoy's are NOT supposed to ask for help.

Potter smirks, actually smirks! I bristle, that's my smirk, the bastard.

"That looked like it hurt." He snickers and where did the righteous Gryffindor go?

I drop his arm and glare. "Are you going to help me or not?" I demand, suddenly feeling a bit light headed from the lack of food, sleep, and days upon days of stumbling through the dark - not to mention that horrific Apparition they pulled me into when they came across me at the river. Bringing us here...damn it where are we? I hate, HATE not knowing!

Potter stares silently at me and I squirm inwardly under his sharp gaze. Not visibly of course, no I'm much too proper and prideful to show him my apprehension.

"Okay..." He says slowly and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "But I'm taking your wand and you're going to tell me all about how you ran away." He pauses and eyes me up and down and I do NOT want to know what I look like right now. It cannot be good. "But maybe you should get some sleep first."

I nod, utter relief washing over me at the realization that I won't be running blindly all alone anymore. Even if that means I have to stay in the Golden Trio's company for the foreseeable future. Better than being with the crazy Dark Lord and his mental followers.

Potter holds out his hand and I stare at his red palm and long snow licked fingers. The same digits that always managed to wrap around the Snitch a second before my own. Choking back the rising terror, I carefully slip my wand into his grasp, those nimble fingers closing around it with such ease as if I didn't just hand over a VERY important part of myself to him.
A Wizard’s wand is like his blood, letting someone else control it is nearly panic inducing.

He pockets it and waves me after him as he starts towards the tent and after a moments hesitation I follow. Uncertain of what lies ahead and not completely sure I want to find out.

****

I jerk to suddenly, the memory of my first night with Potter and his friends slipping back to where it broke free from. But even as I stuff it away I know with a sinking dread that its done its damage already. My eyes refuse to open as I feel myself float back together, feel the lines of the chair under me, the curve of the floor beneath my feet, my hands twisted in soft fabric, and Potter's arms around my back - my cheek against his shoulder where I suppose I fell into when I...passed out?

Again. Good lord I'm getting tired of this.

I can feel the coiled tension stringing his muscles together, his hands grasping my back much too tightly. "You can let go." My voice is quiet and he doesn't respond for a beat, his throat working around what must be a series of unending questions.

"Tell me what’s going on." He says firmly as I push out of his arms and stare at our hands resting on our respecting knees. He still has the faint scar 'I must not tell lies' and my eyes trace over the ingrained letters in his own script.

"Doesn't matter." I don't look up, don't want to see his emotions splayed across his telling features.

"Doesn't matter? You’re serious? Draco you just went into a total panic and blacked out!" His hand jerks up and through his hair, the one on his knee taking up a fine tremor. Swearing under his breath he grabs his cigarettes and shoves one between his lips, his fingers slipping on the catch several times before the flame bursts to life and he inhales deeply. "I mean does this happen a lot?"

"No it actually doesn't matter at all Potter." I tell him sharply, standing up swiftly and allowing my feet to settle into a steady pace up and down his room. "All that matters at the moment is what the hell I'm going to do about losing my match last night." Hopefully this will draw him at least momentarily away from where he wants me to go and really when it comes down to it, it is the truth. I can't just stay locked up in this room with him forever. I have to eventually stop this strange back and forth and confront the situation head on.

Not to mention I've learned to live with my...problem for years, actually had it perfectly under control until he came waltzing back in.

"That's mental Draco, you can't just ignore whatever is going on." He stands up so fast his chair upturns, his gaze pleading and a tad unhinged. It’s astonishing how quickly he can get worked up. "You looked like bloody death, I couldn't even wake you! And last night...last night after the stitches you, you almost did it then too didn't you? You just-"

"Potter!" I snap, cutting him off. I do not have time for his Saintly streak to make an appearance. "I don't need you to save me!"

He flinches as his eyes flash. "Draco..."

"No Potter listen to me." He looks like I've punched him in the gut and for some reason I have an urge to take it back, to sooth it over somehow. But I push it down because it shouldn't matter if Potter looks hurt, it can't matter. "That fight last night was important. The victory needed to be mine."

"Then why did you let him win?" He asks puzzled, the hurt still shadowing his eyes in a way that's making it hard for me to look at him.

I sigh heavily and sink down onto the bed, dropping my head into my hands. "I didn't...not intentionally anyway."

"But why...?

"It's complicated." I mumble into my hands, can't very well tell him it's his fault can I? "But the fact is I lost and now a very influential woman is out for my blood."

"The people in the alley? They worked for her?" He stands across from me, leaning back against the wardrobe.

I nod. "Yes and now I need to decide what I'm going to do."

"Is there a choice?" He asks. "If she's really out for blood than shouldn't you leave as fast of possible?"

"Probably." I push my hand through my hair and look back up at him. "But there are things to consider."

"Like what?" The cigarette goes back into his mouth and I debate how much to tell him as the smoke obscures his features.

"Can't you put that out?" I scowl and he shakes his head. "Fine, die of lung cancer." I grumble.

"You’re dodging the question."

"I'm not sure I want to start over somewhere else." The words come tumbling out on their own but I figure a little bit of honesty can't hurt can it? Who knows maybe talking it out a bit will even help. God knows I haven't been able to decide on a decision on my own. "And I don't think I could give up fighting." The little fact that I won't be able to do my regular conditioning while the stitches heal is near making me sick as it is. What would I do if I couldn't ever be in the ring again? What could I possibly replace it with that would capture me so fully?

"Is it really important enough to risk your life for?" He asks quietly and my eyes drift to the lightening scar that's barely visible through his fringe.
How many times did that question get thrown around during the war, hell during his entire life? It was a constant up and down, an endless pulling that demanded he give and then begged him to hide away safe in the next breath. The whole of the Wizarding world standing or falling on his back, there never really was a choice for him. Give himself over to it or we all would have died. I know my own situation is minuscule, less than even a pinprick amongst a thousand galaxies in comparison, but right now, in this moment it feels just as crushing.

To give up would surely be to die.

My heart squeezes and I watch his graceful fingers stub the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray next to him. "It is my life."

"Doesn't have to be." He pushes off the edge of the wardrobe and crosses the small distance to sit next to me. Hesitating for a moment while his hand tightens around the edge of the mattress, his left foot swinging up and down. "You could come with me."

"I'm not going back Potter." Even the thought of stepping foot in London sends a spiking dread through me and his green eyes snap to my fingers suddenly running in circles over the blanket. Thankfully he's not bullheaded enough to mention it or try and stop me again.

"That's not what I'm suggesting." I contemplate him as he stares at my fingers, the lingering stench of smoke that should be clinging to him is strangely absent and in its place is a warm scent of sweet coconut - just like always. It washes over me with the force of a tidal wave and I know it's a very, very bad idea to take him up on his offer. "I was thinking maybe America, haven't been there yet." He continues, completely unaware of my inner turmoil.

I bite my lip and force that little nagging part that wants to say the hell with it and follow wherever he leads away. "I think I need to stay and play this out. Whatever it may hold."

"You're going to go see her aren't you?" He sounds resigned as if my decision to stay affects him in some immediate way.

"Yes."

He nods. "When?"

"Today." With the realization that I can't leave, at least not until I've tried my hand at salvaging the situation, the steps I need to take slowly start to fall into place. I just hope I'm not going to walk into something I won't be able to walk out of. That's the risk though isn't it?

"Right." He stretches and propels himself up, bending to grab a pair of socks and trainers from under the bed and tugging them on. "We best get going then yeah?"

"You're not coming." I tell him flatly, not really all together surprised that he wants to accompany me. Heaven forbid he let anyone ever go into a potentially dangerous situation without him. He doesn't glance up from tying his laces, doesn't even look like he's heard me, and I frown. A stubborn Potter is not someone easy to contend with. "I'm serious. I'm going alone."

Straightening, he smiles crookedly at me. "No you’re not." He glances down at my bare feet and grabs a pair of clean socks out of a drawer, tossing them at me. "You can argue with me if you like but I'm coming with you so it would save time if you didn't. What size shoe do you wear?"

He can be so utterly insufferable!
This is not his fight, he should not be inserting himself where he doesn't belong. Good god do I need to physically slap him around a bit to get it through his thick head that he is not the savior of everyone? Again! Because I swear to Merlin that we've had something akin to this conversation before.
I glower at him as I tug my feet into the socks because I know he's not joking. The prat would just follow me all day if I refuse his help. "Forty-five." I reply through my deepening frown that's pulling painfully at my broken flesh but I don't let up, better to live with the momentary discomfort and pin Potter with my most withering expression.

He draws his wand and I have a split second warning before he's transfiguring another pair of socks into a pair of comfy looking gray trainers. "Stop doing that!" I hiss, fighting through the churn in my stomach.

His nose crinkles in puzzlement. "Doing what?"

"Magic." Standing, I snatch the trainers away from him, shove them on and march towards the door. It's time to leave this crazy little world I've stepped into and reclaim my carefully crafted life. All I need is a tantalizing enough proposition to tempt Madame Safiya.

****

My senses are immediately accosted with the thick stench of sweat as the door gives way and the gym, my home, opens up before me. The sounds so unique to the world of training slip over and through me and peace finds its way back into my bones. I can feel dozens of eyes follow me as I wind my way through the occupants and their swinging punching bags, stepping over the few scattered weights until I make it to the back - the door to the little office used by the coaches standing ajar and empty.
Damn it where is Donnie?

"Wait here." I mutter to Potter who's looking around with a fascinated expression, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. I catch his nod just as I see Caleb across the room, his hands falling to his sides, his face full of anxious relief as our gazes lock. I move towards him as he pushes past the punching bag he was beating his strength into moments ago.

"Dray." He pulls me into a surprising but thankfully quick embrace, his eyes searching over my battered face. "God what happened to you last night?"

"I was hoping you could help fill me in on that a bit actually." I tell him, returning his smile and motioning him to follow me back to the office, away from prying eyes and ears.

He nods his head with fast little bobs and joins me in the little room, shooting an unsure look at Potter when he trudges in behind us and pulls the door shut. "Yeah sure, of course...who's this?" His thumb jabbing the air towards the unfamiliar man.
"That's Potter." I wave in his general direction, propping myself on the edge of the sparse desk and just manage to avoid the wince that tries to shake me.
"Harry actually." He sticks his hand out to Caleb who eyes it uncertainly before grasping it in a firm shake. "Old friend." He smiles that infuriating smile of his and I hold back a snort. Old friend? Right...
Caleb cocks his head and gives me a funny look. "Really? Wasn't aware Dray had any friends..."
"Yes well it was a long time ago." I grip the edge of the desk and cross my ankles, ignoring the questions I can see brewing in Caleb's mind. "Do you -"
"You were at the fight weren't you?" He asks Potter suddenly, cutting me off, his eyes narrowing as his arms cross over his bare chest. He doesn't wait for an answer though and takes a step towards him, looking like he can't figure out if he should trust the black haired man or not. "Yeah you were the guy who freaked when they started dragging him out the back."
Freaked? I shift my gaze to Potter who in return is looking at Caleb with a much more guarded expression than before.
Caleb swings back to me, pointing at the man next to him. "After you lost the crowd went insane, the Madame’s men were there in a heartbeat pulling you through the mob and out into the alley. We tried to follow but they barred us and made Donnie go with them, said she needed to talk to him. But he, he kept trying to get through them, shouting his fucking head off and then he was gone...just like that, there one second gone the next."
Potters jaw progressively tightens throughout Caleb's rather accusatory sounding explanation but despite the myriad of things that prick at me, demanding more attention, more of an explanation - I cast it all aside, tunneling down into one solitary statement. "They still have Donnie?" I ask stiffly.
Caleb falters for a second. "I...I can't be sure but I haven't heard from him since."
Which in Donnie's case is not a good thing because he lives here nearly as much as I do and the fact that he hasn't shown yet does not bode well. I suck in a breath, tapping out my fingers under the edge of the desk as I try to dampen the fear that's starting to wrap its tendrils around me.
"Dra-"
My eyes snap up to Potter, silencing him with a fiery look. If Donnie was still with her when they realized I had escaped and found the scene in the alley than he could be in grave danger. She would no doubt hold onto him as leverage to smoke me out and the longer I wait the worse it might get for him. I just hope she hasn't taken her sadistic anger out on him already.
That would also explain why she didn't have anyone waiting here for me. She knows once I realize she has him that I'll come to her. And she's right. The question is how do I find her, its not as if I've ever just waltzed up to her before, don't even know if I could find my way to her estate on my own. But if she has him then that would mean...
Grasping the telephone across the desktop, I pull it towards me, cradling the receiver in the crook of my neck as I dial Donnie's mobile by heart. The ring vibrates down and into my limbs and I push my hand through my hair as I wait through the seemingly endless dull trill. I feel more than see Potter move closer and I glance up and meet his gaze just as the phone clicks though.
"I thought I'd be hearing from you today." The voice is low and silky and purely cultured.
"Madame Safiya." I say simply in a way of both greeting and in query of how to proceed. If my upbringing and subsequent lifestyle has taught me anything it's that less is always more when dealing with people like this.
"Do join me for tea my dear. There is a car waiting outside for you." She replies, pausing for a brief moment. "Oh and be sure to come alone." Then the line goes dead and I replace the telephone carefully, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth. That wasn't exactly what I was expecting and perhaps it was the absence of any real emotion or the even sweetness but the short conversation has only served to make my blood run cold.
Her claws are sharp and possessive and now I know without a flickering of doubt that she has absolutely no intention of letting me go. Ever.
And if I've spliced between the lines correctly she already has the way I'll pay her back planned out precisely.
"We can still leave." Potter says softly, pulling me out of my daze and when my eyes refocus I'm pulled tight into his emerald gaze. There's a promise there I can't fully comprehend but it doesn't matter. Even if I hadn't already decided to play this out there's no alternative now. Not when there's more than my life on the line. Donnie has been too good to me to leave him out to rot.
I don't answer but I can see the moment he realizes that I'm still going through with it, there's a blink of sorrow before it's gone and then he's pulling his damn cigarettes out. "Didn't think so." He mumbles, catching it alight and blowing the smoke from the corner of his mouth.
"I need to go." I say while straightening and begin to gather myself together. Mental and physical, I'll need it back as one without any distraction if I'm going to come out of this on top. I exhale a deep breath as it all rushes through me, it used to be so much easier. "Potter -"
"I can't come right?" He finishes for me and takes my spot against the desk as I nod. "Your rule?" He asks but I can tell he already knows the answer.
"Not this time." I answer and there's a million little things pressing against his frowning lips and I wait for them to come gushing out for he's notoriously bad at holding his tongue. But for once he keeps his jaw shut tight and simply nods.
"Be careful and stop by after yeah?" Caleb says, looking clearly worried, but he fixes me with his lopsided smile anyway. "You know just so we know she hasn't hacked you to bits or anything."
"Your vote of confidence is overwhelming." I laugh, pulling open the office door and making my way to the front. No use prolonging it any longer. I push down on all my thoughts until their carefully tacked in place and am just reaching the outer door when I hear jogging feet behind me then a soft hand tapping against my shoulder.
"Draco wait." Potter mutters and when I turn he quickly presses something into my palm, his eyes darting around for a moment.
I feel the hint of magic pulsing out from it and into my fingers before glancing down to find a small silver coin resting in seeming innocents in my hand. I have a strong urge to hurl it as far away from myself as possible but manage instead to curl my fingers tightly around it, as if blocking it from sight might dampen the waves it's emitting. Of course it doesn't and a muscle in my jaw twitches, it's taking nearly everything I have to keep it in my grasp and not give into the collapse it's trying to tug me into.
"Just in case you need help." He says in way of an explanation.
I don't trust my voice so instead I shove it deep in my pocket and fix him with a long look, trying not to think too closely on what sort of charm he put on it that could possibly help me out if circumstances become dire. I can feel it resting heavily against my thigh and all the control I had managed to twine together goes rushing out in one agonizing wave. We stare at each other as I try to piece it all back together but my thoughts are getting all fuzzy and disjointed and with a small shake of my head I turn from him and pull the door open. Stepping out into the thick warm air, I let out a shaky breath as I take five steps then slide into the waiting car without a word.
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The Art of Shadow Boxing